All language subtitles for True.Terror.With.Robert.Englund.S01E01.WEBRip.x264-ION10

ENGLUND:
Hidden away in news reports
from America's past

are tales so frightening
that they must be true.

I'm Robert Englund.

Join me on a journey

into the dark shadows
of our nation's history

to uncover a trilogy of stories

as terrifying as they are real.

♪♪

A humble storekeeper
is tormented

by a prophetic countdown
to doomsday.

Oh!

It's the dream.
It's always there.

ENGLUND: A police station
becomes a battleground...

[ Gunshot ]

...for a vengeful spirit...

I murdered him.

ENGLUND: And a teenager
finds himself trapped

in a waking nightmare.

I heard something
from inside the coffin!

Someone is alive
in there!

Brace yourself
for "True Terror."

[ Man screams ]

♪♪

[ Wind howling ]

You know, I've always been a bit
obsessed with life and death.

Why do people think of them
as opposites?

Their relationship is less
black and white than gray.

It's that unnerving,
murky middle ground

only the bravest of us
dare enter.

But the stories
I have for you now

are about three unlucky souls
who had no choice.

We begin in North Carolina,
the year 1848,

and there we find
an everyman

named Jonah Middleton

just before fate decides
to let him in on a dark secret.

[ Thunder crashes ]

♪♪

As the story goes,
it was a rainy night,

and a 40-year-old shopkeeper
is caught away from home.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Jonah's never been
inside a saloon before,

but the open door offers him
a haven from the storm.

Whiskey, please.

Coming up, Jonah.

♪♪

Thank you.

Jonah's story is reported
in a newspaper

called The North Carolinian,

and it says in the story
that soon after he arrives,

he bumps into an old friend...

♪♪

Harvey.

...a man by the name
of Harvey Crenshaw.

♪♪

I haven't seen you
in ages.

-Cheers.
-Cheers.

ENGLUND: What good fortune on
an otherwise dreadful night.

Would you join us?

If Jonah didn't know better,

he'd assume
someone planned this.

Jackson.

And Tom.

Sally Houston.

Am I seeing things?

There at the tavern was a table
full of old friends.

Some of these people
Jonah hadn't seen

or really even
thought about for years.

But there they are,
all at the same time.

How has
the family been?

Been awhile.

They're well.

ENGLUND: There's a saying
about coincidence,

how it exists only
until a connection is made.

How about you all?

What -- What have
you been up to?

Just sittin'.

Thinkin'.

Remembering.

Lots of remembering.

Not much else
you can do around here.

MURPHY: The longer Jonah sits
with all of his old friends,

the more he realizes there's
something off about all of them.

ENGLUND: It's a struggle for
Jonah to put his finger on it,

but then...

then it hits him.

Oh, boy, does it ever hit him.

Wait a minute.

Harvey, you --
you died last year.

It was black-lung disease...

[ Coughs ]...from the mines.

Jackson, you -- you were
killed robbing a bank.

[ Gunshot]

Tom, you -- you were hanged
as a horse thief.

[ Bones crack ]

And, Sally,
you -- you drowned.

It was ten years ago.

♪♪

[ Chair scrapes ]

I don't belong here.
I'm not dead.

Not yet.

But we'll see you
in six weeks.

What?

You'll be dead, too!

[ Laughs ]

Six weeks, six weeks,
six weeks, six weeks.

Oh!
[ Breathing heavily ]

Jonah? What's the
matter with you?

Nothing. I'm fine.

I just -- I just fell asleep
for a second.

It looks like more than
just a little nap to me.

Well, I was having
a weird dream.

It was --

All my old friends
were there.

I hadn't seen them in years,
but they -- they --

they were all dead.

♪♪

REBEL:
During ancient times,

dreams were thought
to be prophecies

from the gods
or other supernatural forces.

When I first walked in,
it all seemed like a normal bar,

and then I saw
my friend Harvey.

Jonah's case is much like what
happened to President Lincoln.

On April 11, 1865,
President Lincoln told a friend

a premonition
he had of his own death.

Four days later...

[ Gunshot]

...he was assassinated
in Ford's Theatre.

♪♪

ENGLUND: Try to imagine
the fear and unrest

racing through
Jonah Middleton's mind.

He's healthy as a horse with
no deadly habits to speak of.

The odds he will die
in six weeks are remote --

or so he prays.

It was just a dream.

♪♪

It seemed so damn real,
like it was happening to me

and not just something
I was dreaming about.

Well, real or not,

you need to
get back to work.

But it --Ah. Hey.

Wash up.
Look at this mess.

Your hands
are filthy.

♪♪

♪♪

BARTENDER:
We'll see you in six weeks.

♪♪

Four, five, six.

ENGLUND: Friday the 13th --
as far as prophecies go,

I've heard
it's a popular day to die.

What are you still
doing here?

You're supposed to be delivering
this package to Mr. Lavery.

♪♪

Did you hear me?

[ Inhales deeply ]
Yeah, yes.

♪♪

[ Door creaks ]

Mr. Lavery, I have your order
from the store.

Mr. Lavery?

Mr. Lavery?

♪♪

Mr. Lavery?

[ Gun cocks ]

ENGLUND: In his dream,

the bartender said
Jonah had six weeks to live.

This is only Day 1.[ Gunshot ]

[ Man screams ]

♪♪

ENGLUND: In the fall of 1848,
shopkeeper Jonah Middleton

had a prophetic dream

giving him
just six weeks to live.

But this horrifying prediction
seems to have been expedited.

This all you got?

From what we can tell
from the records,

it appears that Jonah

was only about 12 hours
into his six weeks

when he had the,
shall we say, bad luck

of walking into a barn...[ Horse neighs ]

...where somebody
was waiting to rob him.

[ Gun clicks ]

♪♪

[ Insects chirping ]

Mr. Lavery!

♪♪

[ Bullet ricochets ]

♪♪

♪♪

[ Blows landing ]

♪♪

[ Yells ]

[ Thud ]

♪♪

♪♪

[ Screams ]

Jonah!

What are
you doing?!

You have to deliver
this to Mr. Lavery.

I-I guess I just
dozed off again.

[ Sighs ]

Get yourself
together.

Yeah, of course,
I'm -- I'm sorry.

♪♪

ENGLUND: They say our dreams
reflect whatever's on our mind,

and Jonah's been thinking
a lot about death lately

for obvious reasons.

Could his nightmare be real?

♪♪

ST. AMAND: A deep belief in
a dream world like this one

is the kind of thing
that can drive a man insane,

and that's exactly what starts
to happen to Jonah.

REBEL:
Once Jonah starts believing

in the prophecy of his death
coming true,

he begins to morph between sleep
and wakefulness

and sanity and madness.

♪♪

ENGLUND: As it gets closer
to Friday the 13th,

the day of Jonah's
prophesized demise,

he can think of little else.

Can you blame him?

♪♪

Aah!

♪♪

[ Gasping softly ]

For protection, he now carries
a cross and rosary beads

with him at all times.

He also refuses to sleep.

He thinks if he stays awake,

his prophetic dream
can't touch him.

♪♪

ENGLUND: It's Friday the 13th.

Finally, his hideous
countdown is over.

The day the man in Jonah's dream

predicted he would die
has arrived.

Jonah?

You don't look well.

Are you running a fever?

Fe-- Fever?

No, no fever.
I'm -- I'm not sick.

We'll see you in six weeks.

The -- The dream.
It's the dream.

It's always there.

[ Scoffs ]
I-I can't shake it.

Jonah, you have
got to stop.

Why don't you
head on home?

Get a decent
night's sleep.

Yeah.

REBEL: The stress of worrying
about this prophecy

has led Jonah to exhaustion.

He can barely keep
his own eyes open.

Lilly, you take care
of yourself.

♪♪

♪♪

[ Sighs ]

Jonah heads home,
but he's so freaked out.

He's always looking over
his shoulder

expecting imminent danger.

♪♪

Whoa.

ENGLUND:
Jonah is consumed with fear.

[ Horse neighs ]

Fear he is being followed.

♪♪

Yah! Go on now!

And to Jonah,

it appears that Death
is chasing him on horseback.

♪♪

[ Horse neighs ]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

MURPHY: When Lilly rides home,

she finds him dead
along the side of the road.

The official report calls it
an accident.

He was thrown from his horse,

and he hit his head
when he landed.

♪♪

[ Glasses clink ]

ENGLUND: After his tragic death,

I'd like to think
Jonah found himself

right where he started
six weeks earlier --

among friends.

So, are we in Heaven,
or are we in Hell?

[ Laughs ]

[ Laughter ]

BARTENDER: Six weeks, six weeks,
six weeks, six weeks.

♪♪

I guess you could call
Jonah's story a cautionary tale

or perhaps even a wake-up call,

but if there's a lesson here
to be learned,

it's that
if dreams can come true,

then so can nightmares.

We now meet a teenager
named George Banks.

Of his fate, the press reported,

"Seldom has such a deed
of horror been chronicled."

[ Chuckles ] And that's because
when death comes a-calling,

it comes in the form
of a waking nightmare.

[ Thunder rumbles ]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

♪♪

WOMAN:
George, I'm here.

♪♪

Right beside you, dear.

♪♪

WELLS: George Banks
was a 19-year-old man.

He had fallen ill,

and at first, his mother thought
it was just a fever,

but he got sicker and sicker.

Finally,
George went to a doctor

who diagnosed him with smallpox.

CLARKE:
Smallpox is a nasty disease.

It's a highly contagious virus.

The symptoms of it are headache,
nausea, sweating, tight muscles,

pustules and sores
all over the body

that, if you survive this,
leave horrible scarring.

George contracts the disease
during a 20-year epidemic

that ravaged New Orleans
from 1863 to 1882.

Records suggest that it caused
about 6,450 deaths.

♪♪

To contain the disease,

George is confined
to a vermin-ridden hospital

that only treats
smallpox patients.

♪♪

DOCTOR:
Has he been coughing?

No.

That's a good sign,
right?

♪♪

I'm afraid not.

ENGLUND: It's been four weeks

that George has been battling
this disease,

and his mother
has been holding vigil

by his side the entire time.

♪♪

I'm sorry.

He's gone.

No.

George, no.

♪♪

But on the morning of
Tuesday, May 25th,

the doctor can find no pulse,

so he declares him dead.

♪♪

George, no.

ENGLUND: His mother now faces
the unthinkable --

burying her own son.

There's just one problem.

BANKS: [ Thinking ]
No, no, no, no.

No, no, no, no.

George is still alive.

Please, I'm not dead.

Mother, tell them
I'm still alive.

Medicine in general in 1875

was nowhere near
where it is today, obviously.

They didn't have technology.

They didn't have the science.

They didn't have heart monitors,

and so if they tried to take
your pulse and couldn't find it,

if they couldn't find
any other outward signs
that you were alive,

they declared you dead.

Don't put me
in that box.

No, please.
I'm not dead.

Mother, tell them
I'm still alive.

♪♪

[ Hammer pounds ]

♪♪

ENGLUND: George is alive
but too weak to say so,

trapped inside his own mind,

aware of everything
yet able to do nothing.

Please, no, no!

[ Man screams ]

-[ Grunts ]
-Got it?

Y-Yeah, I got it.

ENGLUND: At the height

of the New Orleans
20-year smallpox epidemic,

time is never wasted
getting the dead underground,

and there will be no exceptions
for 19-year-old George Banks.

BANKS: [ Thinking ] No.

This can't be happening.

ENGLUND: His transportation
to the cemetery

is as pitiful as it gets --

the charity wagon.

WELLS: The charity wagon is like
a hearse for the poor.

During this time in New Orleans,

there were so many
destitute people

dying of these diseases

that the city couldn't keep up
with all the dead bodies,

so they used charity wagons
to go around the city,

pick them up, and carry them
into cut-rate cemeteries

called Potter's fields.

♪♪

ENGLUND: The wagon is driven by
a man named James Connors,

a man as grim and humorless
as his job.

James Connors was born
and raised in New Orleans.

The only time he ever left was
to go serve for the Confederacy

during the war
between the states.

He wasn't married, no children.

I would imagine him
to be a loner.

♪♪

Please, please let me out
of here.

Please, someone.

I don't understand.

I'm not dead yet.

♪♪

WELLS: It seems bizarre
and macabre to us today,

but in those days,
being buried alive

was a fear that gripped
many people.

There's even a word for it --
taphephobia.

Famous people were sufferers
of taphephobia.

Alfred Nobel, Renoir,
Hans Christian Andersen,

and George Washington
all feared taphephobia.

ENGLUND: George Washington's
fear of being buried alive

was spelled out
in one of his last requests.

The fear of being buried alive
was so widespread

that inventors
were getting rich

selling
specially designed coffins.

Those special coffins
all included a mechanism

that could let the person
inside communicate

with the people aboveground
to let them know,

"I'm still alive.
Come rescue me."

[ Bell rings ]

ENGLUND: But George Banks'
coffin has no such features

though his fear of being
buried alive is not irrational.

For him, it's all very real.

♪♪

Okay, think.

I've got to do something.

I've got to save myself
somehow.

ENGLUND: About the only thing
that can save George

would be a miracle.

[ Muffled groaning ]

♪♪

♪♪

CONNORS: Whoa!

That's a good way
to get yourself run over.

Sir, I heard something
from inside the coffin!

Someone is alive
in there!

CLARKE: As Connors drives the
charity wagon to the cemetery,

a woman named Mary Thompson
is walking down that very street

on her way to work.

Oh, thank God.
Someone heard me.

...moaning from
inside the coffin!

This here man
[Knocks on coffin] is dead.

Dead body can make
strange sounds.

At times,
dead bodies do make noise.

Air inside of the lungs can
shift when the body is moved,

and that can vibrate
the vocal cords

and make sounds
like grunts or moans.

I have the proper
death certificate.

Well, I don't care
what you have!

If you won't open
that coffin, I will!

I'd be careful now.

He died of the smallpox.

♪♪

CLARKE: People were
deathly afraid

of catching diseases
from dead bodies,

and while it's remote,
it's definitely not impossible.

[ Clicks tongue ]
Let's go, donk.

♪♪

Why are we moving?

She was here to help me.

This can't be true.

This is madness!

ENGLUND: So close to being saved
and still so far.

For George Banks, there is
no reprieve from his torture.

His slow and steady march
to the grave goes on.

If he can only get
another chance.

But how likely is that?

Excuse me, sir, please.

WELLS: So, put yourself into
Mary Thompson's place.

Whatever she heard must have
been big enough

to convince her that there was
something really going on here,

so she rallied a bunch
of other people in the streets.

She convinced all of them,
as well,

and then they all, as a group,
chased James Connors

and his charity cart
down the street.

THOMPSON:
Sir, stop your cart!

-Stop!
-He's still alive!

[ Breathing heavily ]

Sir, I heard him,
and I know you heard him, too.

You're going to look
in that coffin now.

WELLS:
When that big crowd

finally caught up
to James Connors,

he knew that he wasn't going to
be able to bully all of them.

This was it.

George finally has a chance
to be saved,

to get out of this
nightmarish situation.

[ Breathes heavily]
Finally, it's over.

♪♪

♪♪

Oh, thank God.

♪♪

[ Hammer pounds ]

[ Sniffs ]

Dead -- just like
the doctor said.

Let's go, donk.
[ Smooches ]

Well, I heard him.

No!
He saw me blink!

Why are you doing this?!

ENGLUND: Brought to
the brink of rescue

only to be sealed up again
in an unholy pine box.

[ Whimpers]

Maybe George Banks
really is dead.

Oh, God.

If that were true,
why is he so scared?

Mother, tell them.

They'll listen to you.

Tell them I'm feeling
much, much better.

ENGLUND: Ah, yes,

because the gravedigger awaits.

♪♪

[ Man screams ]

♪♪

ENGLUND: In 1875,
New Orleans doctors

have declared smallpox victim
George Banks dead.

They couldn't be more wrong.

And George is fully aware

he's on the brink
of being buried alive.

BANKS: [ Thinking ] Please, sir,
where is your mercy?

The only man left
who can save him

is charity wagon-driver
James Connors.

But what's in it for him?

♪♪

WELLS: Connors wasn't paid
for driving the cart.

He was paid for bringing bodies
to the cemetery.

$1 for every corpse
he delivered.

If he let George go,
then he wouldn't get paid,

and so George really
wasn't a person to him.

He was just a payday.

♪♪

[ Shovel scrapes ]

[ Dirt crumbles ]

ENGLUND: The odds are stacked
against George,

and time is running out.

Seemingly unable to move
or cry out,

what, if anything,
can the poor man do?

Let me out!
Let me out!

WELLS: The burial was
already underway.

George had to do
anything he could

to let that gravedigger know

that he was burying
someone who was still alive.

Help me!

I'm alive!

I'm still alive!

[ Indistinct shouting
in distance ]

THOMPSON: Sir, I know
what I heard.

ENGLUND: For George Banks,
nothing would be sweeter

than the sounds
of angry voices.

I don't care about the money
that you need to make.

But is it all a dream?

[ Gunshot ]

How could someone actually
be trying to save him again?

George, I thought
I'd lost you.

[ Weakly ] Mother.
Mother, it was horrible.

♪♪

Here, I made you
some soup.

♪♪

BANKS: No, no, no, no, no, no!
No, please, please, please!

No! No, no!
I can't breathe!

Help me, please!
Stop!

ENGLUND: In the end,
there is no salvation

and no resurrection
of George Banks.

At only 19, the young man
goes to an early grave

in more ways than one.

BANKS: Noooooo!

♪♪

WELLS: Mary and the others
were witnesses

to everything
that had happened that day.

They reported it to the police,

and the police
eventually found Connors

and charged him with murder.

CLARKE:
But Connors is acquitted,

mostly because George's doctor
testified under oath

that he was dead
when he left the hospital,

and there's no way
to revive him.

ENGLUND: At his trial,

James Connors delivers the most
disturbing of quotes.

He declares,
"Even if George wasn't dead"...

As horrific as it sounds,

George Banks' ordeal
was confined

to only one nightmarish hour.

But another man
walked a fine line

between life and death
for years.

That man was Atlanta
police officer Calvin Hart,

and until one fateful
graveyard shift,

he had no idea
just how tenuous

and how terrifying
that fine line could be.

♪♪

♪♪

MURPHY: Calvin Hart is a
five-year veteran of the force.

He normally walks a beat,

but after a month
of double shifts,

he's so exhausted,
he requests some station duty.

Hart's superior that night
is Jack Stone,

and he's only months away
from retirement.

♪♪

ENGLUND:
The two officers are enjoying
a quiet, uneventful night --

just what both of them
were hoping for.

Here's to boredom.

Amen.

It's times like this

that fate has been known
to show off its sinister side.

[ Sips drink ]

[ Door slams ]

[ Breathing heavily ]

He's after me!

It's all right, sir.
You're safe here.

Come on in.

CLARKE: Hart reacts to the
intruder as most people would.

He sees someone that's
completely freaked out,

and he's concerned.

STONE: It's alright.
Come on in.

It's alright.

♪♪

You -- You've got
to help me, please!

Certainly, sir,
certainly.

Hart, get this man
a chair.

Calm yourself.

♪♪

Calm yourself.

[ Panting ] He -- He --

Let's start from
the beginning now.

What is your name?

Peter Lester.

He wants me dead!

Who wants you dead?

Edward Smith.

Edward Smith.

Officer Hart
recognizes the name,

but he can't place where
he's heard the name before.

HART: Sir, calm down.

You just tell us where he is,
and we'll question him.

Hart suggests that they find
Edward Smith and question him.

It's then that Lester
drops the bombshell.

Well, you can't
question him.

Why can't we
question him, sir?

[ Breathing heavily ]

I murdered him.

♪♪

CLARKE: This entire session
has just changed gears.

Lester has just confessed
to a murder.

The police aren't sure if this
is a real murder confession.

Sometimes people make this up --
sometimes for attention,

sometimes because
they're just crazy.

ENGLUND:
If Peter Lester is telling
Stone and Hart the truth,

a killer may not be the only one

who's entered
the Atlanta police station.

♪♪

LESTER: Smith is here!

♪♪

He's here!
In this room!

ENGLUND: The hour is late,
but the most unearthly night

in the history of this Atlanta
police station has just begun.

[ Man screams ]

♪♪

ENGLUND: The night that
stockbroker Peter Lester

entered an Atlanta
police station

remains the most bizarre
in the department's history.

Never before and never since
has anyone confessed to a murder

and also claimed
the ghost of his victim

is trying to kill him.

HART: His name
sounded familiar.

MURPHY: It doesn't take long
for Officers Hart and Stone

to confirm that Smith is dead.

He was strangled
with his own necktie,

but his killer was never found.

CLARKE: Officer Stone decides to
ask Lester a question,

something only
the killer would know.

♪♪

So how'd you do it?

I -- I strangled him
with his own necktie.

♪♪

Lester tells the police
that his girlfriend

had an illicit affair
with Smith.

♪♪

When he found out, his emotions
got the best of him.

Son of a bitch!

Smith.

Lock him up.

ENGLUND: Lester came to
the police for help.

If he's placed behind bars,

you'd think that would make him
a sitting duck for a ghost.

-Up you go.
-Wait, no, no, no.

You can't keep me here,
though.

HART: Up you go.

[ Gun clicks ]
Wait.

Whoa, oh, oh,
Lester, calm down.

Ain't no one gonna
hurt you. Calm down.

[ Gun cocks ]

ENGLUND: What began as a quiet
graveyard shift

has plunged into chaos.

♪♪

[ Punch lands, Peter groans ]

♪♪

I'm getting too old
for this. [ Chuckles ]

ENGLUND: Ghost or no ghost,

Lester's confession is enough
for the police to jail him

until he can be arraigned
the following morning.

H-Hey. Hey. Can you, uh --
Can you let me out of here?

Sit down.

You've got to
let me out of here!

Sit down and relax!

Stone doesn't doubt for a moment
that Lester is insane,

but Hart -- Hart isn't so sure.

MURPHY: Hart knows fear.

He's a seasoned cop,
and he knows

that Lester is afraid of
something.

Now, the problem is, is it real,
or is it in his mind?

May I have my
coffee, please?

Yes, sir. It's hot.

♪♪

Just go back out front,
will you?

He's fine.
He ain't going nowhere.

Yes, sir.

♪♪

ENGLUND:
Waiting for work to end

can be as futile
as watching a pot boil.

But what Officer Hart
doesn't realize

is that on this graveyard shift,

he will confront
his own destiny.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Hart has been hearing
this ghost story all night long,

and naturally,
he's getting a little jumpy.

ENGLUND: The power of suggestion
is a powerful thing.

That doesn't mean
that ghosts aren't real.

♪♪

♪♪

[ Clock ticking,
crickets chirping ]

♪♪

♪♪

CLARKE: I think we've all been
in this situation before.

You're exhausted,
and there's that point

where the mind starts playing
tricks on your eye.

♪♪

ENGLUND: Delusions? Perhaps.

But what if it's real?

Can one actually see
things that lie hidden

in a dimension beyond
our normal perception?

♪♪

[ Sighs ]

♪♪

[ Gasps ]

[ Man screams ]

♪♪

[ Gasps ]

ENGLUND: Could a vengeful ghost

be stalking
an Atlanta police station

on a deceptively quiet night
in 1909?

Officer Calvin Hart's
police manual

has no chapter
on the paranormal.

MURPHY: Think about this
for a second.

When you see something
that shouldn't exist,

it can be a shock
to the system.

We all want to be in control,

and it's petrifying
to think that a force,

maybe even a supernatural force,
has taken over.

♪♪

[ Sighs ]

[ Gasps ]

ENGLUND: When a restless spirit
makes contact with the living,

perhaps it's like a wanderer
in the dark,

bumping into strangers

until it finds
its intended target.

♪♪

[ Grunts ]

[ Gags ]

[ Groaning ]

♪♪

[ Inhales deeply ]

♪♪

ENGLUND: Officer Calvin Hart

swore an oath
to protect and to serve.

His goal now is as clear
as it is improbable --

save a confessed killer
from his victim's ghost.

Let him out.

STONE: What?

You need
to take a break.

You've been
working too hard.

Go have a smoke.
Calm do--

Give me the keys.

-Give me the keys!
-I saw him!

ENGLUND: As one battle rages
between mortals,

another begins between
the living and the dead.

♪♪

History is full of
ghostly encounters,

and one thing's for sure.

If a ghost is after you,

it's not going to come in
for a quick kill.

It's going to torment you
over time.

[ Indistinct arguing ]

♪♪

[ Groans ]

[ Grunts ]

[ Fork clatters ]

[ Knife clatters ]

[ Indistinct arguing ]

HART: You may be too old
and don't care anymore...

[ Gags ]

Old?
I'm not too old!

[ Arguing continues ]

[ Gags ]

♪♪

[ Weakly ] Help.

[ Gags ]

♪♪

♪♪

[ Thud ]

♪♪

ENGLUND: Revenge is a dish
best served cold,

and a ghost's revenge
is as cold as the grave.

[ Camera shutter clicking ]

♪♪

CLARKE: The headline in
The Francisville Tribune

qualifies as one of the most
chilling in American journalism.

♪♪

The article says...

♪♪

And the case is as baffling now
as it was 100 years ago.

♪♪

ENGLUND: Word to the wise --
justice has no expiration date

and no limit to its range.

It can reach us any time
from anywhere,

even the grave.

Whether you're tormented
by the dead

or you're marked for death

and can't stop it

or alive but can't prove it,

accept the unsettling truth

that life and death
have a relationship

more twisted
than you ever imagined.

Oh. [ Chuckles ] It was just
an afterthought.

That is, until our next descent
into "True Terror."

♪♪